


Falling for a Man and His Candles

by underneaththepleasure



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Candles, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Gay, Gay Male Character, Happy Ending, M/M, Modern Era, Relationship(s), Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7641502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underneaththepleasure/pseuds/underneaththepleasure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron Burr is a humble candlemaker, just trying to run his candle shop in peace. </p>
<p>Of course, with Alexander Hamilton working next door, "peace" is a foreign concept. </p>
<p>Modern AU - very fluffy. Enjoy! Feel free to leave comments and kudos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling for a Man and His Candles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelittlelion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelion/gifts).



It started off as innocent curiosity.

The lovely aromas that would intrude his office since the opening of the shop next door were enough to catch anyone's attention. No one else in the building seemed particularly interested in the development; some were grateful, some flat out never noticed the change. For Alexander, it was constantly in the forefront of his mind, begging him to go next door and figure out how exactly these smells, so enticing, were even possible. His resolve to let the whole situation go was shattered when he'd caught the tail end of a beautiful melody floating up through his open window one night. It was a warm night; the sun was nearing its final farewell, and most people had gone home to their families. 

Alexander Hamilton was not one of those people, and neither was the gentleman next door it seemed.

The very next morning, Alex found himself abandoning his normal routine of showing up an hour early to work to instead step through the entrance to the candle shop. The aromas now made sense - but how was it so _strong?_ Feeling out of place as his black polished shoes made contact with rugged old hardwood, he quickly took in the shop surrounding him. There were candles _everywhere._ They lined the walls, top to bottom, even blocking some windows. No wonder he could smell this place from his second story office space.  

“Can I help you?” 

The strong, rich tone of voice at the counter reminded him that he was in a store, not some unoccupied storage room. Of course there would be a clerk. He smiled at the man - very dark, handsome beyond Hamilton’s ability to comprehend, and watching Alex with an amused smirk. 

Alex shook himself out of his daze and smiled easily at him. “I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you. I work next door, I came to see where all the wonderful smells were coming from.” 

When the other man looked down bashfully, Alex realized he was speaking to the owner. “You _made_ all these? How do you have the time? _Or the patience?”_  

The man behind the counter laughed out loud at that. “That is a very good question,” he chucked. “My grandmother taught me how to make candles after my mother died. I wanted to be able to create a scent that reminded me of her; I've always been very scent-associative above all else.” 

Alexander nodded along easily, genuinely interested. “I think that's incredible. Do you still make that scent?” 

“It's actually one of our best sellers!” The owner marched out from behind the counter and led Alex to a wing of the building that held, somehow, even more candles. This section was different, however. Each candle jar - rounded like a bowl, frosted just enough to still be transparent - bore a label with a person’s name. He read only a few before he was being handed a light orange candle. The name read _Esther._  

The other man began explaining, “It's an almost woodsy smell. We lived on an acre of land filled with pine trees, which she adored, and her clothes always smelled like pine needles. Our house almost always smelled faintly of oranges; her and my father would sit at the counter for hours, peeling these tiny oranges and just talking about anything and everything. So, this candle is a woodsy, floral scent with just a hint of orange.”

Alexander was so enraptured with the other man’s words that he nearly felt like the man’s parents had been his own acquaintances. Finding no words to describe the connection he felt toward the man, he blurted out, “What was your name?” 

“Aaron Burr, sir,” the candle maker answered kindly. Alex liked him - he was polite and reserved, seemingly the opposite of himself. He wondered what it would take to get under his skin, past his walls. Alex couldn't keep the grin off of his face as he shook Aaron’s hand and introduced himself as Alexander Hamilton. _No matter. I'll figure it out. I always do._  

* * *

 

The next day, around noon, Aaron couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. The whole morning he'd been on edge, eyes darting around the shop thinking maybe he'd missed a customer's entrance. It was when he'd reached a particularly slow hour of business flow that he looked out of his window, positioned right next to the counter and register, and saw the young man from yesterday morning stealing glances at him from his second story window. 

From that moment on he refused to look out the window. If Alexander wanted to get to know him, then he'd have to come over and speak with him like an adult.

Except, unfortunately, Aaron found himself stealing glances at Alexander more often than he wanted to admit. He couldn't help himself - Hamilton would hum when he was bored, every once in awhile letting an actual string of words carry his unique and nearly sensual tone of voice. Aaron suddenly wondered what exactly it was that Hamilton _did_ over there. He'd never bothered paying attention to what the building next door boasted. He decided he'd glance at their sign when he walked home after closing up that evening. Not even ten minutes later, he heard a loud and angry noise from Alex’s office and the slamming of a door - seconds later, Alexander’s presence filled his shop, demanding more attention than the candles themselves. The man strutted straight up the counter and looked Aaron dead in the eye, and in a tone that reminded the candlemaker of an army general, he said, “Mr. Burr, I need a candle.”

Entirely amused, Burr answered, “Mr. Hamilton, if I can't find you the perfect candle, no one in this city can.”

* * *

 

The two men spent 40 minutes sampling different scents, Burr only breaking off for a minute to help a young lady chose a candle for a gift basket for her mother. In the end, Alexander bought a simple French vanilla and lavender scent, in the largest size Aaron carried. As they made the exchange of money for product, Aaron asked him, “So what do you do for a living?”

“I'm a secretary, and financial adviser, and anything else Mr. Washington needs from me,” Hamilton answered with a light chuckle. “The building next door is a law firm. I'm studying to be a lawyer, so that's kind of exciting. I love to argue.”

Aaron laughed at that. “Well, I'm sure you'll do an outstanding job, Mr. Hamilton.”

Alexander hid his blush and ducked out of the building with a quick goodbye.

* * *

 

Hamilton enjoyed guessing the scents of the name-themed candles. He came over every afternoon on his lunch break, sometimes bringing Aaron a coffee from the cafe on their block.

“Something flowery...rose?”

“And?”

“...lavender.”

Burr smiled, a touch of pride on his lips, and nodded in affirmation. Alexander returned _Natasha_ to the shelf and picked up yet another candle. This one was a creamy white, and as he popped of the lid, the scent was immediately overwhelming his sense of smell. “Vanilla bean,” he laughed, but quickly caught on to another scent. “Is that tea?”

Aaron nodded again. “Vanilla bean and bergamot tea.”

Alexander admired the slanted script, neat and precise, that spelled out _Katrina._ He goofily skipped to the counter, _Katrina_ in hand, and gingerly placed the candle in front of the candle maker.

“You like vanilla a lot, don't you?” Aaron commented offhandedly, peeling off the price tag and wrapping the glass jar in newspaper. Alexander just shrugged and placed the $8 on the counter, now familiar with the price for this particular size, as this was his fourth candle that week.

“It was the bergamot that caught my attention,” Hamilton explained, “And the vanilla bean was a really smart complimentary scent that I probably never would have thought of - good on you, Burr.”

The candle maker rolled his eyes but could not help the grin that stretched across his face. He was particularly proud of his people-themed candles. People always reminded him of _things_ \- his mother had been sharp edges, sun rays, the sound of the ocean. She’d been the smell of pines trees in the fall and orange zest in the kitchen. Katrina, a sweet friend he’d had in college, had been the rush of caffeine through your veins, misty spring weather, late nights spent reading an old novel, the month of December, cinnamon sticks, ink stains on your skin. She’d had an obsession with vanilla bean and a fondness bergamot earl grey tea; thus, the _Katrina_ candle had come into existence. The one person he couldn’t find the right comparisons for was Alexander, because the man was such an _enigma._

Aaron watched the man fumble with his wallet and found that he couldn’t _stop_ watching. His hair was loose today; it was so dark, almost inky, constantly falling in his face and the man kept having to tuck the strands behind his ears. He wasn’t dressed as formally as normal; he still wore dark slacks and a blazer, but had opted for a tight-fitted tee shirt instead of a crisp button up. It displayed the slight pudge of his stomach, which Aaron appreciated. He liked Alexander’s roundness, far better than the sharp edge of too much muscle that so many men nowadays seemed to strive for. Though he’d only known the man for little over a week, he was familiar and Burr was thankful for his presence. His shop felt empty without Alexander in it, a feeling Aaron hated because the man usually only visited for around an hour out of the eight hours that his shop was open.

Hamilton slipped his wallet into his back pocket and made direct eye contact with Burr, causing a blush on both ends. Alexander, being the far more charming of the two, spoke first: “Listen, I know I’m dorky looking, but staring is not polite.”

“No, no believe me that is not what I - “

“So then by logical deduction, you were staring because you see something you like. Is it my eyes?”

“Hamilton -”

“It’s my hair, isn’t it? You wouldn’t believe how many strangers have asked to pet my hair.”

That amused the butterflies right out of Aaron’s system. “Do you ever let them?”

Looking smug, the other man answered, “No, but I might let you, if you ever asked.”

“I have work to do! And so do you!” Aaron stormed, butterflies reappearing at full force, marching out from behind his counter with every intention to force the brazen idiot of his store. Alexander ran out, _giggling,_ before the candle maker could make another move.

* * *

 

The next day, Alexander never stopped by.

Aaron knew, logically, that his absence had nothing to do with the prior day’s teasing. Hamilton had been laughing, completely amused and downright giddy, not even a little bit put off by Aaron’s defensive reaction to the shorter man’s flirting. Aaron wished he had his phone number. _For completely professional reasons,_ Burr reminded the fluttering feeling in his heart, _He is simply a customer. Friend? Acquaintance._  

Aaron pushed away the notion that he wanted, very badly, to be more than just acquaintances.

He looked out of his own window to try and sneak a glance of Alexander every half hour or so, but never even so much as heard the man’s voice. He had a voice that carried; whether Hamilton was singing or arguing an opinion with unbridled passion, Burr always heard it. He admired Alexander’s passion, but was a little exasperated by it as well. That temper would get him into trouble someday, if it somehow hadn’t already. 

When the clock struck 5:00PM, Burr was quick to lock everything up and hurry over to Hamilton’s building. He’d tried to talk himself out of it, but he didn’t like the nagging feeling in the back of his head that something wasn’t entirely right. He pushed open the swinging glass doors, stepped into the lobby and marveled at the glamorously decorated room for only a moment before rushing to speak with the receptionist. She smiled politely at him as he leaned only slightly on the chest-level counter. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, but has Alexander Hamilton been in today?” He asked, trying not to come off as awkward as he felt. 

The receptionist - _Sally,_ her name tag read - only smiled brightly as she replied, “It’s not a bother at all! Mr. Hamilton suffers from migraines occasionally and called in sick this morning. Can I leave a message? He should be back first thing in the morning.” 

Aaron was about to decline her offer when a heavily French-accented man boomed behind him, “You must be the candle maker _mon petit lion_ keeps raving about!” Burr swung around and smiled politely as he was wrapped into a tight hug. He found himself laughing at the man’s forwardness, something Aaron usually was a bit put-off by. The Frenchman continued, “My name is Lafayette. Alexander is my best friend, I’m off to bring him soup and something from work to ‘ease’ his ever-overworked mind. Did you want to come?”

“No! No, thank you,” Aaron blurted, a blush quickly rising to his cheeks. He ignored Lafayette’s knowing grin. “Um...but if you have a moment, I do want you to give him something for me.”

He again ignored the suggestive eyebrows the man made and promised to return in only a moment.

Aaron dropped his keys twice in his rush to get back into his shop. He nearly knocked over a display of autumn-themed candles as he hurried to find his rack of medicinal-purposed candles. He grabbed a peppermint and eucalyptus scent, raved about for it’s knack at relieving headaches, and attached a little note to the neck of the jar. In his hurry, his handwriting was not as neat as he usually liked to keep it, but it would have to do.

_You had better be in tip-top shape tomorrow. None of my other customers can hold a conversation like you can. -A. Burr (xxx-xxx-xxxx)_  

He had to get the man’s phone number one way or another.

* * *

 

 

The only text he'd received after sending Lafayette off with the candle and note had been a string of winky face emojis, and Burr had no doubt that it had been Alexander. He tried not to smile at the thought of him as he opened the door to his shop the next morning. He sat his bag down behind his desk, turned on the open signs, checked the shelves for dust. He continued with all of his normal morning routine checks until he heard a squeal from outside his window. Brow thoroughly furrowed, he crossed the room to look out his window, the one facing…

 ...Alexander’s window. The very window the man in question was dangling precariously from while Lafayette kept a firm hold of Hamilton’s sweater. Lafayette spotted Burr first, immediately taking on the ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ expression. Alexander continued to struggle to...do whatever he was attempting.

Aaron ran out of the store and into the grassy alley that connected the two buildings. “Alexander!” He called out, realizing with relief that Hamilton, should he fall, wouldn't be injured. That didn't keep the ‘dad tone’ out of his voice. Alexander _squeaked_ when he heard Burr’s voice, craning his neck to get a look at the candle maker. He looked equal parts of guilty and terrified. Sighing heavily, Aaron planted his feet firmly and tacked on, “Drop, Alex, you're not that high up. I'll catch you.”

“I _am_ that high up! I'll break my legs! I'll never be able to run through luscious fields with my future dogs!”

Aaron held back the smile and burst of laughter that was building up in his chest and repeated his order. “Just let go, I _will_ catch you. Just trust me.”

Alexander groaned loudly and told Lafayette to let him go at the count of three. Lafayette ignored his friend and simply dropped him before Hamilton even got ‘one’ out of his mouth. Aaron leapt to grab the man, not expecting Laf to just _drop the_ _man_ , and made it just in time to wrap his arms around Alexander’s torso and fall hard onto the ground. The fall was not pleasant - mingled in with the patchy grass and overgrown weeds was a lot of gravel. Aaron could tell he had a few scratches, but he brushed that off. He focused everything on Alexander, who was now lying on top of him, eyes screwed shut like he was afraid to see how the fall had turned out. After only a moment, he cracked one eye open and let out a huge breath of relief. Relief turned into panicky concern when he saw the slight grimace of pain from the man beneath him.

“Aaron? Are you okay?” He asked quietly, carefully moving off of him. He grabbed Aaron’s outstretched hand and snaked one arm around his torso to help him stand. His gaze zeroed in on the multiple deep scratches decorating the candle maker’s arms. Alex didn’t say anything, only led him back into his shop, still holding onto Burr. He sat him down on his office chair and left to find the first aide kit, which was conveniently situated in the bathroom’s medicine cabinet. He grabbed the candle named _Katrina,_ remembering vaguely how much Aaron and himself enjoyed the vanilla and bergamot. He set up the kit and lit the candle and immediately went to work. When the secretary pulled up a stool and wordlessly began treating his small wounds, Aaron could only watch him with warm endearment.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. He watched a blush creep up Alex’s neck, but past that, he didn’t respond. Not liking his very out-of-character silence, he tacked on, “Why, exactly, were you hanging out of your window?”

Wincing, Alexander put down the antiseptic wipe and pointedly avoided eye contact with Aaron. “The angle your window is at in line with mine makes it near impossible to throw anything through your window,” he answered quietly, “so Laf was helping me try and throw this stupid, crumpled up thank you note - for the candle, which was wonderful, thank you - through your window and it turns out I hang like dead weight. I’m basically a pancake. He could barely hold onto me, which is why I think he let go of me long before I counted to three.” He ripped the wrapping off of a medium-sized bandage and gingerly placed them over the cleaned wounds.

Adoring smile spreading across his face, Aaron watched him quietly as he bandaged the remaining small cuts. When he finished, Alex moved to scoot away from his close proximity to Aaron, but Aaron grabbed his wrist before he had the chance. Alex looked up at him, surprised, but melted into an easy smile at the other man’s glowing face. The surprise returned and hit him at full force as a pair of soft, ever so slightly chapped lips pressed up against his own. The kiss was so tender, so full of affection, that is caused tears to spring to Hamilton’s eyes. As quick as it came, the contact was suddenly gone again. Aaron pulled back to look at Alexander openly, uncertainty painted clearly on his face, but didn’t have any time to voice his thoughts before Alexander reconnected their lips.

Alexander’s kiss was powerful and passionate, reminding Aaron of the man himself. It was not lacking in sweetness, however, as strong hands snaked around the back of Aaron’s neck and kept him grounded as his heart seemed to fly anywhere but there. When Alex broke the kiss a few moments later, he grinned at Aaron’s glazed eyes and flushed skin and couldn’t help but to press another quick kiss to the candle maker’s lips.

“You should’ve told me,” Hamilton muttered and paused to give him yet _another_ kiss, “that you were feeling this way.”

An embarrassing giggle bubbled up out of Aaron’s chest as he replied, “I never thought they’d turn into something so real. You’re quite obnoxious.”

Alex shrugged and finger-combed his hair out of his face, causing Aaron’s heart to flutter. Voice cracking, Aaron pushed the hesitant words out of his mouth, “So you’ll be coming over for dinner, clearly.”

“Clearly,” the snarky secretary drawled. He lost his sense of humor for a moment and tacked on, “I am really sorry about this whole dropping-out-of-a-window incident.”

Threading his fingers through Hamilton’s, Burr smiled reassuringly. “Don’t even dwell on it,” he said. “Let’s think about dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Aaron Burr didn’t look up from his laptop when the chime of the doorbell rang clearly throughout the shop. At precisely 1:30PM - every, single day - a dark eyed, mocha-skinned man would stroll in through the door as if he owned the place and plant a kiss somewhere on his face. Aaron loved the consistency of Alexander’s visits; it made him feel adored and sought after, and continuously reminded him that he was one of the luckiest men alive. When the kiss didn’t come, and he heard a very obvious ‘a- _hem_ ’ come from the other side of the counter, his head shot up, thinking he’d mistaken a customer’s entrance for his boyfriend’s.

He broke into a toothy grin at the sight of Alexander Hamilton with a large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Happy six months, Mr. Burr,” Alex congratulated, matching the grin on Aaron’s face. Burr shut his laptop and immediately came out from behind the counter to wrap the man in an awkward hug and loving kiss. He took the flowers and sat them carefully on a nearby table and thankfully accepted the coffee, which was still nice and hot. Alex watched him with doe-eyes, still smitten with the candle maker. It made Aaron’s heart soar every time.

“You should go check out the shelf with all the new candles,” he said casually, not looking Hamilton in the eye. Alex didn’t question it, only gave him an odd look before going over to the specified shelf. Burr felt his pulse quicken as the moment ticked on, and thought he might throw up when he heard Alex’s sharp intake of breath. In a split second he was back, eyes wild with excitement as he held the candle entitled _Alexander_ in his hands.  

“You finally made me a candle,” he said, too quietly, trying so hard to contain his elation. “I love the scent, but I can _not_ place what in the hell it is.”

Aaron shook his head. “You have to do your best. Take another whiff, you’ll get it.”

Alexander did, and concentrated hard on the scent, harder than Aaron had ever seen him focus on anything. After what felt like an eternity, he lifted his head and looked Aaron dead in the eye and said, “Aaron, what the _fuck_.”

It took Aaron at least a full two minutes to calm down from his fit of laughter. He struggled to get his breathing under control, and finally, was able to start explaining the scent.

“I tried to put in as much of your history and personality into as possible. It’s a little beachy, mirroring your beginning on Nevis. There are hints of passionfruit and spices, which remind me of your character.” Aaron paused with a blush as Alex squirmed and grinned at his boyfriend. “I’ve been trying to come up with your scent since the week I met you,and I still don’t think it’s perfect, but it’s a start.” He looked up at Alex, who was fighting hard to make it seem like he wasn’t overcome with emotions. He leaned forward and wrapped his candlemaker in a tight hug, resting his head on Aaron’s broad chest.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, “I wish I could make you something so thoughtful. Maybe I’ll take up chapstick-making. Our lips are always so chapped.”

Aaron chuckled. He breathed deep, feeling more content than he ever had. He lit the _Alexander_ candle and temporarily flipped the open sign to ‘closed,’ and led Alexander to the back room. After six months, Aaron figured the store could survive an hour for the two men to take for themselves. Alexander followed with enthusiasm. It was hard to resist a man and his candles.  
  



End file.
